


Mistaken

by Aesthetic_Writes_007



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ansel - Freeform, Assassin - Freeform, Attempted assassination, Brothel Worker, Enemies to Lovers, King - Freeform, King Solomon - Freeform, M/M, bad king, hitman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 00:04:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15158105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aesthetic_Writes_007/pseuds/Aesthetic_Writes_007
Summary: King Solomon awakes to something a little out of the ordinary.





	Mistaken

It was cold, like an icicle pressed against his skin. Something cold and sharp setting each hair on the back of his neck on edge, much like the sense of impending danger. He scrunched his eyebrows, lazilly pulling himself from his slumber, why was the sensation wet? He must have been sweating in his sleep, overheated under the multitude of plush blankets he wrapped himself in at night.  
Though when his eyes opened, it wasn't an icicle. The shimmering steel blade was pressed dangerously tight against the skin of his throat, the pressure making it uncomfortable and difficult to swallow. A small sliver of worry edged it's way into his brain, chanting into his ear like a soft whisper that it would nick his flesh and spill his precious life force onto the satin sheets and pillow cases under him. He shifted his hips and finally noticed the dead weight that settled over his waist. The body above him belonged to the blonde haired beauty that had occompanied him in his bed for the past several nights, his slender thighs straddled over his hips, pressing against him to keep him firmly in place.  
Soloman's eyes flickered up to Ansel's face, locking on the icy blue orbs that dripped with ill intent and anger. His brow was creased and lips drawn into a tight line, yet that plump bottom lip that he had kissed so sweetly hours before trembled. A small tremor that threatened to wreak havoc like the beginning of an earthquake, ready to split the earth under it's magnitude.  
"Ansel," Solomon breathed, careful not to move against the blade.

He was met with Ansel's muscles tightening as his only response, pushing the blade even tighter against the sensitive pale flesh. The slight sting was slightly alarming to Solomon, making him realize that the situation he was in was not a joke and that his life was actually being threatened.  
"Don't move," Ansel growled, his knuckles white over the hilt of the blade, "I swear I'll-"

"Kill me?" Solomon spoke, cutting the smaller male off. "You won't kill me, Ansel."

The words were edged, sharp enough to make a point but spoken softly enough to not rile the other. His tone was oddly gentle, his words spoken on what seemed to be escaping breath. "You're strong, but you have morals, Ansel. A code."

Ansel ground his teeth tightly together, the muscles in his jaw working and creating ripples at the action. A true sign of his discomfort at his position, his anger that welled deep inside.

"You need to die, Solomon. You're a corrupt king! A terrible leader! You don't care for your people, care that the innocent die and suffer! They starve and are abused under your watch, at the hands of your men!" The blonde spat, the raven man under him flinching slightly at the severity of his tone. The younger man's lips were drawn in a snarl, lips curling to show his teeth like a rabid animal. "You do nothing to stop it! All you do is turn a blind eye, what kind of king is that, Solomon?"

Solomon swallowed thickly, he couldn't say he was unaware of what was happening outside his castle walls. Yet he also couldn't say he knew what was going on. Most of the choices he had to make regarding his people, his followers and subjects were made by his council of advisors. Solomon never took an interest in the politics of running a kingdom, even then he didn't have enough wisdom to make the right decisions. Though now, it seemed those he had placed in charge were not doing as good as a job as he originally thought.  
Solomon kept his eyes planed on the angry hues above him, refusing to change his expression. He didn't narrow his eyes in thought or draw his lower lips between his teeth in hesitation, instead his face remained lax and passive. 

"You have a blade pressed against a sleeping man's throat, an unarmed man resting in his chambers," Solomon whispered.

"How many innocent and unarmed people are suffering and dying because of you?" Ansel jabbed back quickly.

"This goes against everything you believe, you can't kill a man who is not threatening you. Someone who loves you," Solomon carefully moved his hands, his fingers trailing softly against Ansel's knee. The ginger touch danced up his leg before coming to a calm yet firm rest atop the blonde's thigh. "You can't kill someone you love, someone you hold dear, Ansel."

The raven's eyes were locked on the angered young man above him, the silence in the room taking over again. It was deafening, creating so much white noise in Solomon's head that the man wanted to scream just to break the barrier around them. Ansel's shuddering breath was enough to keep him quiet, the soft billowing of the sheer curtains across the room just enough to let him know that what was happening now was indeed real. The fabric tussled in an eerie dance as the night air disturbed them with trembling fingers.  
For a split second, Solomon thought Ansel was going to do it. Thought that he was going to drive the glittering steel into his jugular and finish his job. Instead, he saw it. The slight tightening of his jaw in uncertainty, the flash of hesitation in those beautiful eyes. The blade slipped slightly with the small relaxation of his fingers, and that's when the king moved.

Solomon reached across his chest, planting his palm into the crook of Ansel's elbow. The blade bit into his flesh, drawing a thin line across his throat. Before Ansel could retaliate, the king tightened his slender fingers against the man's arm and yanked him forward. Ansel, tossed off balance planted his hands against Solomon's chest. He yelped in surprise, Solomon grunted as he planted his feet and thrust his right hip up while simultaneously yanking Ansel's right arm to the side. The smaller fell to his side, the weight of the taller instantly rolling on top of him.

The king made a hasty grab for the dagger, his eyes never leaving his assailant. Now Ansel was beneath him, the blade in Solomon's hand pointed directly at the side of Ansel's neck. One movement and the weapon would be lodged through the vital arteries and wind pipe that granted the other life.  
One leg rest on the outside of Ansel's hip, the other under his thigh and pushing the blonde's knee to his waist. His forearm supported his weight while his body hovered over the shocked male, the sharp features of the king's face shadowed with disappointment and pain.

"Here I thought I had found something special in you," Solomon whispered, his teeth grinding subtly as he searched the other's features. "Yet it appears that once again, I was mistaken."


End file.
